


'Voices'

by SarahLannister



Series: Outtakes, Unused & Alternate Takes- Fandom Specific [3]
Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Incomplete-Only 5 Chapters Long, Internal Monologue, Kind of meta, Mental Illness, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, OC Is A Voice In JD's Head, Rescued This From My Old Fanfiction.net Account, Saved From A FF.net Purge, Voices In JD's Head, Written In 2007 When I was 19, dark themes, major OC death, mentions of depression, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahLannister/pseuds/SarahLannister
Summary: I can hear the voice but I don't want to listen...After losing a patient to the horrors of a 12 car pile up, JD is alarmed to awake the following morning with more than one voice inside his head...VINTAGE FANFIC ALERT!A story from my personal archive of pre-2010 works, here is a forerunner to Evie Keogh's adventures in the form of a Scrubs fan fiction I started in 2007 and never finished due to personal circumstance. Thought it had some good lines in it so here for your viewing pleasure, the 5 chapters I managed to save from the FF.net account I no longer recall the login for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s Note (28th Febuary 2019):**  
>  This is so fucking old, sweet Jesus. I found a whole cache of my earlier fanfics on my now defunct Fanfiction.net account from all the back back to 2003 when I was a teenage Emo Otaku Edgey McEdgelord and out of all the horribleness, this one from my first foray into the Scrubs fandom seemed worth saving despite its’ rough edges.  
> 2007 was a rough year for me personally but this one had potential so y’never know- I could reconfigure this one into a future fictional work that’s more polished. Watch this space, folks.
> 
> Here is the masterpost for my own records, all unabridged and copy/pasted in it’s awkward, Emo glory….
> 
> Be gentle! *hides under duvet*
> 
> NOTE: Heavy themes of mental illness ahead. Heed the tags and be well.
> 
> -CHUBBS

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

**(Theresa's P.O.V)**

_Have you ever woken up one day and felt utterly terrified of your own emotions? Have you ever felt that your entire universe is one gigantic white cube, a room with no windows and doors, the walls padded to block out the sounds of your screams?_

_Imagine feeling this way every single waking moment of your life._

_Hi there. The name's Theresa but my friends call me T.J._

_Well, they WOULD... if I had any friends to bestow a nickname upon me. I'm the girl who's photograph can be found in the dictionary. Just look in 'O' for Outcast, 'D' for 'Delusional', 'F' for Fragmented or, like everyone who knows and judges me, the good ol' P for 'Psychotic'._

_To say my life is less than perfect would be the biggest understatement since the dawn of time itself. It has been plagued with an eternal shadow that seems to block out the harsh light of day, drowning me in a turbulent ocean of raging emotions with no hope of David Hasslehoff and his manly, rippled, hairy chest coming to my rescue. Most days, I'm afraid to wake up, afraid to face the inner conflict each new day will bring as my mind struggles to decide if I should be happy or sad, angry or indifferent._

_It's a struggle._

_Like a see-saw ridden by cloven-hoofed devil children, my moods go up and down, up and down, up and down faster than I can blink._

_It scares me to the core._

_Now more than ever considering I'm all out of happy pills._

_Groovy._

"What do you mean I have to leave?"

"I'm sorry, Terry-"

"T.J. My name is T.J. I've told you a thousand fucking times, Charlotte! Look, I didn't forget YOUR name, did I?"

"Calm down, ma'am or I'll be forced to call security."

"Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! Story of my life! "

"Look, your insurance dried up two months ago. Unless you can somehow come up with the $1000 a month fee to stay here, I've got no choice but to release you from our custody. I'd suggest you go and find a local counsellor to help you deal with your problems in a more pro-active manner. We can't keep pumping you full of anti-depressants. Your liver is shrivelling under the strain!"

"I don't CARE! For crying out loud, Charlotte! It's the only way I can drown out the voices- voices screaming over and over for me to take that knife and just put an end to this pathetic soap opera that is my life! I NEED this asylum. You throw me out into the real world, I'll die out there!"

_But there was no reasoning with her._

_Charlotte Grisholm, scourge of my entire existence within the white cube of Shady Acres Asylum. Forgiving walls, loving walls. Comforting walls where my troubles couldn't find me. For the past five years, it was my home, a sanctuary from the demons that plagued most of my teenage years. It was within these walls I got my first sickly sweet dose of lithium, shot deep into my veins three times a day, silencing the demons and replacing them with sweet, glittery faeries._

_How I loved those faeries._

_It was an easy way out, I admit, but I barely had the strength to fight through this storm after rampaging succubi choked the last of energy from me in those rare moments of clarity between meds._

_I stared at Charlotte, hoping that the daggers I sent her way would somehow turn real and slice her up for denying me my sweet relief. How I loathed her, from her greasy brown hair scrapped back into a tight bun, her severe features and vulture-like nose right down to the way she chewed her pencils into toothpicks or constantly forgot my name. How I longed to just lunge forward and embrace her neck with my fingers, to snatch away her breath just as she snatched away my only chance of leading a semi-normal life._

_I wanted to hear that wonderful snapping of vertebrae, to feel the bone break beneath my fingers._

"It's no longer my concern, T.J. Your doctor signed the release papers this morning."

_Her voice was blank and unsympathetic as always. I wondered how she could sleep at night when she spent her days being such a cruel and callous waste of space. Probably on a bed of nails. I can barely hide my smirk, visualizing her lying on top of the sharp prongs, my foot wedging her down by the chest-_

"All I can do is write you a prescription to see you through the week but after that, you're on your own."

_She didn't look at me the whole time she sullied her fancy pink stationary with jagged, illegible scrawl. As I yanked the slip of paper free from her gnarled fingers, she stared at me with an all too familiar look- she was trying to get inside my head._

_Begone, devil woman!_

_How dare you invade my private thoughts!_

_She continues to stare at me, as if trying to bore a hole into my skull. I try to spook her with one of my patented death glares, but after what feels like eternity, the strain became all too much. My fingers massage my temples, exhaling in a begrudging sigh._

"God! What now?!"

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Not any more.."  _I grumble, glancing down the hallway to the open door of my room, currently being stripped of what few possessions I own by Dave and Bob, two tubby orderlies who occasionally sneak me the odd chocolate brownie. Oh, my room. My lovely, squishy room with its padded walls and bared windows, itchy bed sheets and drooping rubber plants. Not quite perfect, but after five long years living in a drug haze, it my home. God, I'm going to miss that plant.._

"You could always stay with your family-"

"Dear GOD, Charlotte! Do you honestly expect me to go running back home to the people who so lovingly dragged me kicking and screaming into this hell-hole? Forgive me for being so blunt, but I'd rather slit my wrists- oh, wait! I already did!"

_God, I love being sarcastic._

_The vile woman looks at me with the thin-lipped, no-sense-of-humour stern face of Supernanny._

_Super-BITCH more like it.._

"It was merely a suggestion. You could always-"

"I'd say to shove your suggestions up that fat ass o' yours but of course, that proverbial stick just takes up too much darn room. I'm outta here."

_My red Converse sneakers squeak faintly on the linoleum floor as they carry me towards the exit. I can hear Charlotte yell something or other about being 'an insufferable, insolent psycho' behind me but right now, I'm too aggravated to care. How dare she suggest such a thing. How DARE she! She just can't comprehend how much I hate that house and all it's occupants._

_They drove me to this place, both literally and emotionally speaking._

_As I raise the prescription to my face to squint at whatever it is that ice-crotch wrote, out of the corner of my eye, I see the reason behind my prolonged 'vacation'. Five years have done little to due the raging redness of the scar, shining up against the milky white skin of my wrist as clear as day. Further down my arm, trailing under my shirt sleeves, another scar adds to the canvas- this one was the worst of all to create and even now, after so much time to heal, it still stings to touch._

_In a strange, morbid way, my scars tell my story better than any commemorative tattoo ever could._

_My fingertips trace the length of the old gash, one long vertical line trailing down to the crook of my elbow. It stings like a bitch but I can scarcely remember feeling anything other than pain long before I dug the knife in. I guess I was trying to cut out the unseen horror on the inside._

_To see the blood rush out of me, so thick it was black, it was a comfort._

_That feeling of light-headedness, the onsets of shock that slowly began to take hold made me feel more alive than I ever thought possible._

_I don't like to dwell on these feelings. Never did. They make me weak, make me hate myself._

_They make me hurt myself again and despite the relief it brings me, I'd rather stick to taking out my frustrations on my poor, shrivelled liver. It probably resembles fine French pate at this stage of my life. So, the ol' bag's prescribed a week's worth of Lexipro, huh? What a crock of shit. She knows as well as I do that that crap doesn't work. I need something stronger, something that'll blow the demons straight out of the water._

_Three days I've gone without meds, three fucking days._

_I look up._

_The sign of my salvation greets me._

" ** _Joe's Drug Store"._**

_Oh, yay!_

_I can't help but dance with glee._

_I don't even care if I get caught on camera this time._

_It'll all be worth it._

_Sweet Betty Crocker, what's happened to me? When did I turn into a crazed drug addict? Did those assholes at the home slip something extra in with the lithium? My brain is whizzing about at a million miles a second. It's getting harder to breath as the minutes pass by. Oh, no! Here comes the screaming._

_I shut my eyes and hold my head in my hands. I feel my back curve as I buckle under the strain._

_The screaming grows louder, drowning out my pleas for it to end. Louder and louder until it's deafening, a huge roar like a jet engine. Holy crap, I think I just felt the ground shake underneath me! That's odd._

_My eyes snap open._

_The screaming wasn't in my head._

_No, it was the roar of a diesel engine as it plowed straight into me, effectively smearing my brains across the street._

_Figures._

_My first day out in the real world and I'm hit by a freight truck._

_Oh, cruel irony! Why do you mock me (?)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**(J.D 's P.O.V)**

_You'd think after five years working at Sacred Heart I'd grown used to seeing all kinds of gruesome stuff. As a doctor, you're s'posed to be numb to it, just block it out so it doesn't distract from your job. I used to think I'd seen it all: Axes in the head, stomachs blown open by shotgun pellets,dead gerbil skeletons up the butt, boils bigger than a man's fist, gangrene, leprosy , projectile vomiting, epic diarrhoea, Ebola- every disgusting thing you can think of._

_Yet no many how many years you work in this business, nothing can truly prepare you for the sight of a twelve car pile-up._

"For Godsake, Newbie! Don't just stand around looking pretty in your shiny new scrubs! I need you to start a morphine drip and an air line!"

_Dr. Cox whistles so close to my ear I can't help but wince. Secretly, I'm relieved to hear that signature noise as it snaps me back to reality. In all the years working in the medicine business, I've never seen such carnage as the kind I'm staring at. Out of the 26 bodies smeared across the highway, this was the only one with a pulse._

_A miracle unto itself, considering the state she was in. Even though I've grown accustomed to the sight and smell of blood, my stomach churns and the first delectable traces of breakfast slide up my throat._

_Half a woman lies on the bed, the sheets impossibly soaked with blood so thick it's black._

_Half a woman._

_The impact of the freight truck and the metal grille had literally ripped her apart. What little of her torso remained was missing whole chunks of flesh, left leg and right arm hanging onto their sockets by mere threads of sinew. Worst of all- I couldn't even bare to look at it- most of her face was ripped clean from her skull, exposing the bone beneath in a disturbing, psychotic grin that I'll no doubt take to the grave with me._

_As I struggle to find a vein amid the few remaining lumps of flesh, I knew she was a goner._

_I think she knew too as when I raised my head a fraction of an inch, I saw that one remaining eye stare at me with such hopelessness I almost burst into tears there and then. Her eye was baby blue but the colour was lost amid the approaching glaze of impending death and the blood that just refused to stop flowing. Her charred hand, the last of three fingers, gingerly moved to pet mine._

_She had a look of acceptance._

_I knew she was telling me it was going to be okay._

_I wished I could take comfort in that but truth me told, it just made me sadder-_

"She's going into cardiac arrest!"  _Carla yelled out, lunging for the defibrillator but Dr. Cox beat her to it. I wanted to scream there and then, to tell them just how hopeless their efforts were, but words failed me. All I could do was shrink back into the wall as I watched my reluctant mentor try in vain to save this mangled mess of a human being._

_I deal with death all the time in this hospital. Hell, the Grim Reaper is a regular- if unwelcome- visitor to the many wards. As I watched the charred, bloodied mess arch up and down against the surge of electricity, I could see him, all billowy cloak and grinning skull face as he lounged on a chair in the corner, absorbed in an old copy of 'Life' magazine and seemingly oblivious to the chaos in the room as monitors beeped and blipped all around him._

_I wanted to hate him but he was just doing his job._

_Fact of life, so accept it._

_But I didn't want to accept it. I didn't want to watch people die day in and day out._

_I wish I was three, when death meant 'going off to the great big field with other dogs' than 'gone'._

_I must've said that thought aloud as my musings were suddenly interrupted by a pair of rough hands on my shoulders. I looked up, seeing Dr. Cox's face just inches from mine. His face had that familiar look of bewilderment, the same one he got every time I opened my damn mouth. Please just go away, I silently pleaded. I'm in no mood for your crap. I half expected him to call me a girl's name and launch into some long-winded diatribe involving my three old self, the soundtrack to 'The Sound Of Music' and one very surreal mental image of myself in plaid prancing about in a field but instead, he just bumped me on the shoulder as he shoved past me._

"Call it."

"Who was she?"

"The hell if I know. Call it, Debbie."

_I let the remark slide off me like pudding and glance at the clock. 2.06am. I never realized it was so late. I called the time of death and filled out the chart. Another day's work done, another patient I couldn't save. No big deal, happens all the time. Yet why do I feel so low about it?_

_Urh.. maybe I'm just tired._

_Yeah, tired of fighting loosing battles against ol' Grim in the corner there..._

_The Grim Reaper looks up, his perma-grin seeming to broaden as the thought processes in my head. Standing up, I can only watch as he reaches into the open cavity of the woman's chest and pulls out a handful of light. Normally, he stores the souls in a bowling ball bag (for some bizarre reason) but oddly, I saw him loose grip on that tiny ball of light, watching as it floated up towards the ceiling fan and vanished._

_Dear God, I'm hallucinating!_

_Why is he carrying a bowling ball bag?_

_Snap out of it, Dorian!_

_I need sleep._

* * *

**(Theresa's POV)**

_Whoa!_

_I'm floating!_

_I'm floating in what I can only guess as being some sort of lava lamp. Did those doctors give me LSD or something? Hey, this is kinda fun! Look at all the pretty colours! Wheee! I'm flying through a psychedelic vortex! This is freakin' awesome!_

_The colours swirl and blur together, getting brighter and brighter._

_Soon, it's no longer fun any more. I feel nauseous and dizzy. I'm now rushing through a tunnel of bright light. Ow. My corneas are burning! Where the hell am I?_

_OOFF!_

_My feet hit something squishy, causing me to loose balance and fall flat on my face. I expect pain but instead, I'm pleasantly greeted with the sugary taste of candy floss in my mouth. Man, how long has it been since I had some of the fluffy pink goodness? Too long. I swallow a couple of mouthfuls, feeling a delightful sugar rush that returns some the glee I lost in the light tunnel. I could easily eat my own weight in candy floss._

_It's so damn good!_

"GEDDUP-AHH!!"

_Like a shot, I'm up on my feet, heart pounding in alarm at the sudden voice. I can feel my eyes widen in utter shock._

"J-JAMES BROWN?!"

_The Godfather of soul himself, standing before me in all his funkadelic glory, rindstones glinting off a pearly white pimp suit, complete with fluffy hat and silver medallion. I want to cry with joy. This is the best day of my life. Ever. He grins at me with those blinding white teeth. I feel giddy._

"No, I'm merely taking the form that pleases you best."

_Huh? Why is he talking like David Attenbourgh?_

"Who are you?"  _I manage to croak, feeling slightly miffed that I haven't actually fallen before the legendary uber-pimp of all that is good and funky in the world._

"I am God."  _The imposter tells me. I can feel my eyes grow larger._

_I want to speak, but the sudden realization dawns on me too quickly. If he's God, that must mean...! OH MY GOD, I'M DEAD!!_

_As though reading my thoughts-for all I know, he might have very well done- the holy one chuckled heartily and in the blink of an eye, transformed himself into the image of Sir David Attenbourgh, khaki shorts and all. It was all I could do with the shock of my untimely death to applaud this sudden transformation. I felt my knees shake before once again, I could taste sweet, sweet candy floss in my mouth._

_But i didn't want to eat it._

"I'm dead."

_My voice is little more than a whimper. I thought the day I met my maker I'd feel relief that my wrenched life is finally over once and for all, that I could finally rest without having to deal with all the crap back on Earth. 'The Eternal Peace' as some would call it, I used to look forward to my death but as my mind began to play out scenerios of everything I never did, I felt completely hopeless. I wanted to scream, but all I could manage was a throaty croak._

"So much I never did..!"  _I managed to blurt out, tears suddenly leaving my eyes._

_Kneeling at my side, I feel one of God's almighty hands on my shoulder. I look up, seeing kind eyes and a warm smile greet me. He helps me to my feet and takes me by the hand. Reluctantly, I follow as he takes me through a wall of candy floss clouds. It takes most of my self-restraint not to bite into it. On the other side, a desk of fine ivory rests with a computer on top running through so many names and numbers at lightning speed I feel nauseous just looking at it._

_God takes a seat behind the desk and taps a few buttons. After a moment, he grins like a Cheshire cat at me. Unnerving, really._

"Theresa Jade Madison, am I correct?"

_I nod slowly, trying hard not to yell "It's T.J!" at the top of my lungs._

"You're in luck! You weren't scheduled to arrive up here for another fifty years."

"Wait, you mean I was meant to suffer through another fifty years of misery?"

_Gah! Don't be sarcastic before God, you idiot! I mentally slapped myself. God could sense my embarrassment. Despite my inward kicking, he remained cheerful, shaking his head in amusement, as though the human race was simply one huge joke._

"Actually, you were meant to go on to find a husband who helps you overcome your illness."  _He peered at my file on the screen, holding his chin earnestly._  "You bore him three children, all doctors, before dying peacefully in bed."

"What happened? Did someone royally fudge things up?"

"You could say that.."  _God glared at the computer when he said this. It was then I noticed the Microsoft Divine Edition operating logo bouncing across the screen._

_Heaven is WEIRD._

"Well, can't you just give me my body back and send me on my way?" _So I'm due to get married and have a family. Huh. Didn't think I was the type for marriage but still, it would be interesting to see how it went. I stared at God for a moment, hoping he'd give me an answer but instead, his smile died, replaced by a grim look. Some of the twinkle disappeared from his eyes._

"I'm sorry. Your body was completely destroyed in the crash."

"WHAAT?!"

"I can, however, give you a replacement but it'll take a while to process."

_I can feel the anger welling up inside of me. I'm dead ahead of schedule all because of a computer malfunction and now they're saying I can't go back and carry on like normal 'cause they lost my body?! I wanted to scream until my lungs exploded. This kind of service you'd expect in the DMV, but Heaven? Nice to know people still got screwed over in the afterlife.._

"Grr.. How long?"  _I manage to speak through gritted teeth, hands shaking by my sides. I can feel the deep scar on my arm throb under the strain but I couldn't care less if it reopened. I want my body. I want to go home. I want to live again!_

"Two weeks, minimum."

"What the hell am I supposed to do for two weeks?!"

_God rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. He clicked a few buttons on the computer, wrinkling his nose at the file that came up._

"I can give you a temporary host body for the time being but it'll be crowded. Sorry for the inconvenience."

_Inconvenience? It's only my life we're talking about!_

_With an agitated grunt, I fold my arms over my chest, resigned to the fact that I'm going to be spending the next fortnight wandering in a limbo while the Big Guy processes the replacement. My God! Why the hell is Heaven run like an office building? I feel compelled to ask but before I can even open my mouth, someone or something I can't see grabs me by the scruff of my collar. The candy floss clouds fade away as the whole room fills with blinding white light._

_I vaguely hear God telling me to stay out of trouble but right now, I'm more concerned about screaming my lungs out as I'm dragged forcefully down a tunnel of crimson light._

_Oh my god, am I going to Hell?!_

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod...!!_

_**WHUMP!** _

_My back hits something hard. The light begins to fade. Strangely, it's cold._

_The light fades to black._

_I'm dead._

* * *

**(J.D'S P.O.V)**

_I love my bed._

_I love the soft, squishiness of my fabulous new purple sheets- $9.99 at WalMart! Oh, awesome-wait, did I just say fabulous? So I'm in touch with my feminine side! Big deal! Curled up in my lovely, warm, pimpin' purple sheets, Dr. Cox can't taunt me. Oh, wonderfully soft, squishy bed. You make it all got away!_

_I hug my pillow close to my chest._

_Yes, it's true I have an unhealthy attraction to my mattress and yes it does offer comfort at affordable prices, but try as much to kid myself, I can't forget that car-crash victim. Dammit, Dorian! Death is a part of the job! You can't expect everyone to be immortal and live forever like characters in a faerie tale! Get a grip and wake up to reality!_

_I hate my conscience, especially when it takes on the voice of Dr. Cox, berating me over things I can't control. And they say I don't bring my work home with me.._

_Ugh. I hug my pillow a little tighter, trying to block the voice out and succumb to sweet slumber but no matter how much I toss and turn, I just can't give in._

_Frustration settles in and I get up, heading the bathroom to splash water on my face. I feel hot and sweaty. Maybe I have a fever._

_Damn cafeteria food. I don't know why I keep eating there-_

_Wait._

_What was that?_

_Thought I saw something in the mirror._

_My hand moved to close the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet- how did it open? As I pushed it closed, I expected to see my oh-so-handsome self reflected in the glass. Instead, I was met with the sight of a very startled blonde woman with gigantic blue eyes and a look of utmost shock upon her face._

* * *

 

**(J.D/ Theresa's P.O.V, simultaneously)**

" **HOLY FRICK BEANS!!"**

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**(J.D's Point of view)**

_Okay, what the hell is going on?! Why is my reflection that of a young blonde woman instead of the usual handsome stud-muffin that graces my mirror every morning? I think I may be going completely insane. My eyes squeeze shut of their own accord, as though hoping that when they reopened, I'd see myself staring back-my lovely, familiar, ordinary, everyday reflection. But no, the woman was still there when I left the brief darkness._

_I stared straight at her._

_She stared straight back._

_I touched my cheek cautiously, suddenly fearing that whatever questionable ingredients that were in the cafeteria food had somehow turned me into a member of the opposite sex. She mimicked my actions, brows furrowing with mine, her blue eyes copying the look of confusion in my own. If it weren't for the fact that I was in a mild state of shock, I would've been SO checking her out. Damn, I look fii-iine as a chick!_

" **Who the hell are you?!"**

_A husky-though agitated- female voice rings loudly in my ear, causing me to jump. I half expect to see someone standing behind me but as I nearly twist my ankle whirling around in alarm, only the cool blue tiles of the shower boot greet me. I feel my brows furrow, turning back to the mirror. The woman doesn't mimic me any more- her face is twisted with a look caught somewhere between 'deer in a headlight' and 'oh-my-god-I-will-kill-this-jackass-just-for-breathing'._

_A shiver creeps up my spine._

"I should ask you the same question!"  _I retorted. Good, Dorian. Don't let her see you're quietly filling your boxers with butt fudge._

" **You tell me, I'll tell you."**

_I find myself looking her over. As stunned as I am, she's actually kinda cute in a weird, drug-addled sort of way. Her hair is a washed out, over-bleached tangle of dreadlocks with black roots on display, falling limp around a moderately pretty-if slightly drawn looking- face. Not many woman could pull this off but for a strange reason, she seems to do it with ease. She looks tired. Going cold turkey, perhaps? Her eyes are marred with dark brown circles. Like coffee rings on a crisp white tablecloth._

_My hands move of their own accord, running all over my body._

_I don't FEEL anything remotely boob-related-_

" **Ahh! Stop! That tickles!"**

_I stop instantly, suddenly feeling giggly myself. That's weird. Wasn't it supposed to be impossible to tickle yourself? Feeling as though I may indeed be turning schizophrenic, I decide to test this theory. My arm rises up to greet my waiting fingers, but just as I'm about to reduce myself into a fit of hysterics, I feel all mirth leave my body. Two huge scars mar my once bare arm. One wraps almost completely around my wrist in one long, silvery line. The other seems to be much deeper. I know from experience that it's old but it's still angry and red, running all the way up to my elbow and covering the entire length of my arm._

_Whatever caused this could only have been inflicted with a VERY big knife._

"What the-?!"  _I touch the angry red scar and instantly regret it. Air hisses through my teeth at the pain, like a thousand midgets beating my arm senseless with nettle branches. It wasn't an old scar. Oww..._

" **I'm not going to ask you again. Who are you?"**

_The woman in the mirror is getting impatient. As much as I don't like admitting my identity to strange ladies haunting my medicine cabinet , I'm in no mood for an angry ghost -or whatever the hell she was- pestering me all morning. Resting both hands against the smooth basin-wow, that porcelain is REALLY smooth!-I stared at her for a moment, wondering what to say. I've never introduced myself to an...entity before, unless you count Giuseppe, my old Spanish imaginary friend-_

" **I'm waiting!"**

_Yeesh, gimme a second, will ya?!_

"Uhhh.. J-J.D. I'm J.D."  _I managed to stammer, trying hard not to keep glancing towards the door. At any minute now, nice people in white suits are coming to break the door in and take me away to the place with the squishy walls. Squishy walls.. that sounds fun. The woman gives me a bewildered look._

" **You are a very strange little man, John Dorian."**

_What the-?! Did she just read my thoughts?!_

_Instantly answering the question I dared not ask, she nodded slowly, an evil smirk crossing her face. For a fleeting moment, I was back in that hospital room with the car crash victim, unable to tear my eyes away from the skinless, toothy perma-grin staring up at me like a Gacy clown portrait. My skin crawled at the very thought. I felt myself shudder, arms moving to wrap themselves around my body in a bid to offer comfort._

"Get out of my head, devil woman!!"  _I manage to yell, feeling violated. My brain! Mine!_

_Mine! Mine! Mine!_

_Her face changes into an exasperated look. She sighs and shakes her head, dreadlocks dangling in the mirror before me._

" **I would if I could, but it seems to me I'm stuck in here."**

_My head feels funny._

" ** _The name's T.J."_**

* * *

**(Theresa's point of view)**

_Whoa.. this is a weird feeling. I'm standing in front of a window reflecting the image of a young man. He looks about twenty five, twenty six or so. Hard to tell. He seems disturbed by my presence but that's the least of my worries. A million thoughts that aren't my own zip through my head at the speed of light: dancing The Funky Chicken in a fully fledged yellow bird suit, hugging a African-American man I don't know at high school graduation, kissing a blonde haired girl in blue scrubs, dancing to my own random tune in an elevator.._

_I feel dizzy._

_This must be what schizophrenics feel like._

" **How'd you get here in the first place, T.J?"** _I hear his voice echoing loudly in my ears, yet it seems to be coming from all around. He sounds irritated, dragging out my name in a sarcastic drawl as his reflection scowls straight at me. I rub my head, feeling a headache coming on. I remember something about candy floss and James Brown, but it's mostly a blurry haze of sugar and red light that occasionally graces me with a few vague details._

" _I'm not sure. I'd tell you if I knew."_

" ** _Look, I don't wanna be rude or anything but... GET THE HELL OUTTA MY BRAIN, DEMON LADY FROM THE BEYON-OOF!!"_**

_I instinctively move my hand to slap him across the face only... it's HIS hand that does the dubious honor. Whoa. So I can control his movements, huh? Mental note- this could be interesting.._

"Okay, first off- that's just rude. Second, I didn't ask to inhabit your oh-so-insightful thoughts but like it or not, I'm here to stay so you better get used to it. And third: call me a 'demon lady' again and I'll mess up that fine mop of hair you got goin' with a big ol' bottle of bleach."

_He shuts up. Out of fear or resigning himself to my presence, I'm not sure. All I know is that I now inhabit the body of a twenty something whiny brat devoid of a backbone. I search through his thoughts in a bid to find out more. Hmm, so your a doctor- a resident as a matter of fact. Interesting. As I scroll through various thoughts and memories, I can't help but feel a sense of disappointment. Man, this guy is a human doormat! Visions of him constantly being berated and put down upon by an older colleague play before me._

_I feel sorry for him... in a teeny, tiny, microscopic, amoeba-in-a-petri-dish sort of way._

_It was then I knew what to do with the two weeks of limbo bestowed upon me._

"J.D, I'm gonna make you a man."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

**(Dr. Cox's point of view)**

_Urgh. My head feels like a melon just after Gallagher had his mallet-wielding way with it. God-damn insomnia. I blame this hospital or to be specific, the train wreck no-hoppers who fill the many wards with their never-ending supply of blood, guts and more blood. Twenty six people. Twenty six ordinary, insignificant people just wiped clean from existence, half their brains smeared across the side walk. In my twenty years as a doctor, I don't think I've ever seen such horrors._

_Well, except maybe when Jordan insisted on me getting a money-shot of our son being born._

_Uuuurrgh._

_Not even all the scotch in the world can erase THAT image.._

"Dr. Cox!"

_Oh, great._

_Someone I can torture._

_I feel almost compelled to twirl around and give Barbie a good ol' fashioned pimp-slap right across her annoying little pug face for even daring to breathe in my general direction but right now, I lack the strength to do any more than glare at her._

_She winces._

_I smirk._

_It's going to be a good day after all.._

"Yes, my irritatingly perky minion?"  _I reply, overtly sarcastic and accompanied by a patented roll of the eyes. She looks at me with a mixture of fear and annoyance in her baby blue eyes, lost under that bundle of straw she calls hair. How I hate overly-enthusiastic people. They think they make the world all shiny and neat, sugar-coating the blood, guts and glory for the sake of trying to raise a smile and making this twisted mud-ball of a planet a better place for all of us._

_Give me a break._

_Perky people ought to shampoo my crotch._

"Can you help me? Mr. Carson in room 501 is hypertensive and allergic to Amoxycillian but that's the only drug that can effectively bring his rash down and now he's most likely to suffer a MASSIVE heart-attack unless I find another-"

_It's like she's trying to speak to me but all I can hear is high-speed gibberish._

"I can see your lips move but all I keep hearing is.."  _I raise a hand._ "..Quuuaaack! Quack! Quaack! Quuuuaack!"

_She tries to match my glare but fails miserably. With a huff, she blows her bangs out of her face and frowns. Save your energy, Blondie. You can't win this battle. I'm about to walk off and bask in this minor -though still thoroughly satisfying -victory when she yells for me to come back. I can feel myself grit my teeth. Her voice is like a cheese grater slowly shredding my nerves to ribbons._

"If you're gonna be an asshole, let me know exactly how long you plan on being one today so I can send out a memo."

_Oh, snap! Atta girl, Barbie! Work the body! Pfft. Is that the best you can do? My grandmother can let rip with better insults and she's cremated! I can feel my smirk widen into a malicious grin. She may be the single most annoying blonde doctor in this joint but damn, can she be entertaining. It's so enduring to watch her try and fail spectacularly to do one over on me. Almost brings a tear to my eye._

_That being a tear of mocking laughter.._

"Oh, I plan on being an asshole for a very long, long, long, long, long, long, long..."  _I pause to catch my breath._  "...LONG time."

"Jerk."

"Shouldn't you be meeting Newbie in the cafeteria so you can decide who gets a pair of testicles this week?"

"J.D's not working today. He called in sick. Something about the mother of all migraines."

_I quirk an eyebrow._

_Since when did Stacey ever call in sick over something trivial like a headache? Hell, I'm both hungover and sleep-deprived but I still manage to keep it together long enough to drag my sorry ass into this dump instead of hiding under my ratty ol' Power Ranger sheets waiting for Mommy to come tuck me in with a mug o' cocoa and a big ol' gooey kiss on my burnin' forehead._

_Newbie, you truly are a wimp._

* * *

**(J.D's point of view)**

 

_How can I expect to work like this? It's bad enough daydreaming the hours away without having an annoying female voice echoing inside my cranium. A sigh escapes my lips as I absently twirl the phone cord around my fingers. I feel confused and a little bit dazed. Is this a weird dream brought on by too many brewskis? Maybe those wounds on my arm were caused by a UBRI- Unidentified Beer-Related Incident._

_The scars are still throbbing under the sleeves of my pyjama shirt. No matter which way I turn they refuses to settle. I can feel my own pulse throb along the thick red gash, tingling and stinging to no end. I close my eyes and embrace the momentary darkness. I can't believe I'm even considering it- asking the voice in my head for an explanation._

"Why is my arm all cut up and ragged?"  _I ask her aloud, trying to search her thoughts. Hey, she invaded mine! Time to level the playing field. I try to pry into her mind but I catch only glimpses of blurred memories behind thick walls I can't breech. What are you hiding?_

_Her voice was quiet. She'd calmed down enough from the shock of our initial meeting yet I sensed she wasn't exactly willing to talk._

" **It's... none of your business."**

"Yes it is. This is MY body and it's MY arm. I want to know why MY arm is covered in all these lacerations!"

_My body mimics her feelings: I curl up and bring my knees to my chest. I roll back the blue silk, letting the air at the scars. They burn angrily against the wind from the open window as I grit my teeth in pain. It feels like someone is slowly dragging a blade across the veined side of my wrists. It's a horrible sensation._

" **...I don't know why.** "  _T.J's voice was small and meek, reluctant even._

_It almost made me feel guilty for prying but I had to know. I'd seen these marks before._

"..T.J."

_I felt my body coil into a fetal ball, one hand gripping the nearest pillow so hard my knuckles turned white as I shook with suppressed turmoil_

"...Did you slit your wrists?"

_Slowly, my head began to nod._

* * *

**(Theresa's point of view)**

 

_I can't believe I told him that! Now he must think I'm a complete nut-case. I suddenly feel a veil of shame envelope me. I pull the sleeve down over the wounds and force him to sit upright. No. I refuse to let you see that side of me, John Dorian. That side is personal. Ask all you want but these walls I built inside of me are not coming down any time soon. Yes, I cut myself wide open. Big fucking deal. Millions of kids out there do it all the time. I'm just a statistic, nothing more._

_So the scars turned up on your body._

_Do I look like I care?_

_I can feel him trying to pry into my thoughts again but like last time, I push him away._

"Stop trying to get inside my head! As long as we're 'soul-mates', you don't invade my thoughts, got it?!"

" **T.J, I'm a doctor. I can help you-"**

"You're just a general practitioner. You're not a shrink so quit tryna analyse me, okay?!"

" **But-"**

"Shut up. Go make yourself useful and see if there's any coffee. I get bitchy if I don't have caffeine."

" **Really? I'd never have guessed...!"**

_Ha-frickin-ha. He decides not to push the subject -much to my relief- but I understand his concern. I guess I can't really blame him. After all, if I woke up with strange scars and a voice in my head, I'd demand an explanation too. And a shot of Oxycotin.. As he walks through the apartment, I take in the sights. Nice place, though a little bit small and bland for my liking. It seems like he only just moved in- cardboard boxes litter what I guess must be the living room. There's a sofa up against one wall with a television stacked on top of a crate so it's not completely empty though the walls are covered in chipped plaster and ancient wallpaper, relics from decades past._

_I make him stop, walking towards the wall nearest the window. The plaster is crumbling right before me. A simple flick of the wrist and it's on the floor, the white dust slipping silently through the floorboards. Vintage wallpaper from the seventies replaces it. Mocha brown circles set in beige. It takes most of my self-control not to squeal in delight._

"You will restore this wallpaper to it's former glory."

" **What are you, an interior designer?"**   _He queries sarcastically to me._

_I feel a brow arch._

_So I like anything remotely vintage._

_Shoot me._

_We continue on to the kitchen- small but cosy with a breakfast bar and a table that reeks of Ikea. After about three cups of coffee, I feel the stress, anxiety and sheer bewilderment of this strange day gently drift away. My head clears a little as I gaze down into the coffee mug. Perhaps there's a reason God chose this particular host for me. Maybe he thought J.D could help me slay some of my inner demons- a noble idea but I'm nowhere near ready to divulge my secrets._

_Hell, I barely talked to the counsellors back in Shady Acres._

_Then, it dawns on me._

_I have nothing but the clothes I died in._

"Take me to Shady Acres."

" **The mental institution? Why?"**

"I need to pick up some stuff."

" **What kinda stuff?** "

"Oh, just all my worldly possessions.."  _I muttered sarcastically. You ask a lot of questions, J.D. You want to get to know this strange person currently sharing your brain space, right? Hmmm. I supposed I could let him into my head for a brief moment but I worry it might give him nightmares- he's such a naïve little boy. It's kind of cute in a way. His endless supply of daydreams and fantasies give me no end of amusement as I scroll through them._

_I half expect him to yell at me for frolicking through the fields of his inner most thoughts whilst my own remain locked inside a vault but he just resigns himself to my presence. Perhaps he thinks that submitting to my will will get rid of me._

_If only, John Dorian._

_If only._


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

**(J.D's point of view)**

_What the hell am I doing obeying a random voice in my head? My first instinct as I park Sasha-my beloved scooter- up on the kerb is to admit myself voluntarily into the giant white cube before me. This place gives me the creeps. No windows. Just storey after storey of white plaster, blank and plain. A shiver ripples up my spine. I think the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. Either I'm about to be struck by lightning or I'm feeling T.J's terror._

_It's hard to say with the ominous clouds forming overhead._

_Still, I swallow back the fear and push through the revolving doors. Like the outer walls, inside the reception area of The Shady Acres Institute is made of white plaster. Only difference is that it's yellowed, chipped and covered in what I can only guess at being a mixture of dirt and blood. It's so quiet I can hear a pin drop down the hall._

" **If you see a woman who looks like a vulture, run like hell.** "  _I hear T.J whisper to me as she urges my feet down the hall. It's no use trying to argue with her. Whatever hold she had on me is of a freakishly strong, supernatural type. I feel like a puppet on strings. She twists one of them, causing me to glance up and down the corridor. It seems to be deserted, but I can't be sure. I want to turn and leave but the voice inside my head refuses to let me pass._

_Instead, she forces my hand to grip the handle of a large steel door before me. I jump. How did that get there? I blink, staring at it. A steel door, rusting at the hinges with a narrow slit on the top and what looks like a cat-flap at the bottom. I jiggle the handle. The lock creaks, echoing on the hall. I can feel my gut clenching._

_The door swings open onto a small room before squeaking shut behind me. Actually, a prison cell made of marshmallows would be a better description. Both the walls and floors are covered in soft white padding. There's a rickety bed nearby and a couple of cardboard boxes full of Styrofoam chips but aside from that, the room is barren. How anyone could live in this hole is beyond me._

" **There's some stuff taped under the bed."**

_Like an obedient puppy, I get down on my hands and knees, crawling beneath the bed until I greet the wall._

"I don't see anything-"

_Suddenly, the door bursts open with a bang. I manage to muffle a yell of alarm. A pair of white shoes on wrinkly, vein-riddled legs enter the room._

"What the-?! What's happening?!"  _I whispered to T.J, but she ordered me to stay low and quiet. Damnit, lady! This is MY body, not yours! I should be the one calling the shots! Watching through a crack in the thin sheets draped over the bed, I can see a woman in a white nurse's uniform. She's the Vulture Lady my inner monologue warned me about. I can feel what T.J must be feeling: tense, anxious and a little bit scared._

_Another nurse joins the first as they both proceed to clear the room of boxes._

" **No! That's all my stuff!"**

"Was there anything important?"

" **Mostly clothes and a couple o' books but it's not about that. It's the principal! I'm barely dead a day and already, they're dumping everything I own!"**

"Calm down, I'm sure there's way to get it all back."

" **What do you suggest?"**

"I could try posing as a relative and see about claiming all your stuff."

" **Good plan. Just one problem- we're trapped under the bed, jackass!"**

_My eyes roll. Why am I helping her? She's being nothing but bossy and annoying yet I'm willing to risk a 'breaking and entering' charge to help her. God, I'm such a push-over even vengeful spirits from beyond the grave are using me to do their bidding! T.J, that stuff better be worth it! I continue to watch nurses clear the room. They talked for a while. Eager to find out about this strange new brain-mate of mine, I strained to hear._

"Say, Charlotte? Whatever happened to the girl who owned all this junk?"  _One of the nurses queried as she struggled under the weight of a rather large box, face only just visible over the top of the Styrofoam. I could hear the one named Charlotte snort through her nose. Whoa.. that is one HUGE nose._

"Barely released from custody an hour and she goes an' throws herself in front of a truck. It figures. That girl was never gonna be cured, no matter how much lithium we shot into her veins."

"Wait, I thought it was a hit and run that turned into a twelve car pile up."

"I'm telling you, Daphne. That Theresa THREW herself into the path of that freight truck. She thought she had us all fooled when she said she was over all the shit that went down at home.."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say..."  _Charlotte glanced around in search of eavesdroppers before lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. I shuffled forward just enough to hear more, yet as I got to the edge of the sheets, I felt my hand tighten around a bed-leg._

" **NO! D-Don't listen, J.D!"**

_I could hear T.J's screams shred my earlobes but despite her protests, I had to hear this. If you want to invade my thoughts and not let me see yours, then fine. I'll get my facts from another source, thank you very much. I managed to tear my hand away from the bed-post and shunted myself forward, craning to hear._

"...Theresa's father loved her..  **INSIDE**  and out."

_I suddenly feel icy waters trickle down my spine, freezing me dead in my tracks._

_I feel a deep wave of shame slam into me. Forgive me, T.J. I had no right to snoop. I was so annoyed about you controlling me I.._

_. Sorry._

_I half expect her to scream in my ear again but alarmingly, she's silent as the grave. After a few minutes, the nurses left the room. I move to crawl out from under the bed but something stops me. I can feel my shirt snag on a bed-spring._

_Turning onto my back, I look up towards the iron frame holding the mattress in place. There's a small wooden box strapped to the frame, currently holding my t-shirt hostage. In my shocked state, I somehow managed to unhook both and slid out from under my hiding place._

"Theresa?"  _I try to keep my voice as steady as possible but inside, I feel like curling up into a ball. My eyes are welling up. I can't breathe. My legs feel like jelly. I think I'm about to fall over._

" **I don't want to talk about it."**

"It's okay."

" **Leave me alone."**

"Please. Let me in. I promise, I'm not here to judge you.."

_I sudden found my arms winding around myself, trying vainly to offer some degree of comfort, yet no matter how hard I tried to get her to talk, this troubled young woman refused to answer me. I feel horrible. Being a doctor, I deal with abuse cases all the time but now that the shoe's on the other foot, I can now fully understand the extent of all those poor souls' ordeals._

_Truth be told:_

_I didn't want to know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE** : I apologise if you have read these 5 chapters and ache for more. 2007 was two different computers ago and I no longer have any further work to contribute to this story but still, there's potential. I make no guarentees but I thought this would be a good edition to the Outtake Series as this style of writing was a challenge to me and reading back over it 12 years later, I'm confident I could flex the auld muscle memory on multiple POVs if I ever decided to delve into the Deadpool fandom.
> 
> Hope it wasn't too hard to read regarding formatting and different people talking. This fanfic was originally posted on Fanfiction. net in 2007 under the title **"Holy Frick Beans!"** and will eventually deleted if I can manage to get the Support Team at FF.net to shut down my defunct account. In the meantime, anything worth saving from FF.net or LiveJournal (see my Dragon Age Origins stuff!) will be polished up and uploaded to AO3 for posterity.
> 
> Thank you for reading and have a lovely day/night!
> 
> -CHUBBS


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